


Blush

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breakfast in Bed, Christmas AU, Domestic Fluff, Elliot is Eleanor, F/F, Fem!Harry, Fem!Louis, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Girl Direction, Hardly any angst, Hehehe, Liam is just there, Mistletoe, Oh hey mentor Niall and Zayn, Pining, Sexuality Crisis, Smut, Zayn and Niall are mentioned for like one section each, bc why not, cis!girl Harry, cis!girl Louis, cis!girl larry, fem!larry, oh thats a fun one, vanilla smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've never wanted to kiss a girl but like, every time I look at your lips I just wanna... fucking kiss you all night long." Harry's eyes open wide as Louis' drop to Harry's mouth; her lips are swollen from biting them all night, red and wet and plump.</p><p>"Then why don't you?" Harry whispers.</p><p>(or, the Christmas FxF Larry fic in which Louis is 99.5% sure she's straight and Harry likes to walk around shirtless and watch lesbian films)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blush

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit writing this fic was tiring but FUN and I literally made it all up as I went along bc that's my special skill lol
> 
> ANYWAY, fem!Larry in any form is so underrated in the 1D fandom and this gay girl needed SOMETHING so here's this, the fic where Louis basically has an existential crisis but I tried to make it cute.
> 
> So I hope you like it!!! I can talk about fem!Larry for hours so if you wanna talk to me about that or ask me questions about this fic or just anything in generallllll you can find me at petitezain.tumblr.com
> 
> the soundtrack I made for this fic can be found here: http://8tracks.com/peachlou/blush-track

 

 

The morning starts off like any other for Louis - a mane of curly dark hair caught in her mouth, a long body of soft ivory skin, warm tea-scented breath fanning against the crook of Louis' neck. And like all the other mornings, Louis just sighs, resting her hands above her head, fingers hooking on the bars of the headboard. She lifts up her hips slightly, leg slipping out of the warm sanctuary of her black duvet, trying to shift the body above her awake.   
  
"'Arry, you need to wake up," Louis mutters, throwing her head back and staring up at the cracked ceiling of her tiny room. In her peripheral vision she can see the door connecting Harry's room to hers open from when she had snuck in at some point in the night, unable to sleep and longing for the warmth of another person.   
  
Heaving a sigh, Louis grips the bars of her headboard tighter and pulls herself up the large bed, resting her arse on the plush pillows. Her feet are stuck underneath Harry's half-naked body, and her eyes roam over the milky skin and slender build of her flat mate but then she realizes - that's probably actually pretty creepy to be doing.   
  
"Harry," Louis says, louder this time, and wiggles her toes against Harry's ribs. The girl curls within herself, swatting Louis' foot away, before letting out a groan.   
  
"Wake up sleepy head," Lou sing-songs, jabbing her toes into Harry's side again, and Harry yelps, shooting up in bed and eyes flying open. She's fresh-faced and soft looking, always careful to take off her makeup the night before. Louis knows this because Harry spends at least thirty minutes in their shared cramped bathroom removing makeup and moisturizing and doing god knows what else.   
  
Louis smiles softly as Harry yawns, rubbing her eyes with her long fingers. Her hair is wild and unruly, chocolate brown curls cascading over her bare shoulders and chest.   
  
"Got lonely last night?" Louis wonders softly, stretching her arms above her head before scooting off the bed. The old white hardwood floor underneath her feet is cold and a shiver runs up her spine. She adjusts the bunched up legs of her deep red joggers, a gift from Harry last Christmas and birthday. With the winter months rolling around, they're practically the only thing you'll catch Louis in if she's not wearing the same black pair of jeans.   
  
"M'room was too cold," Harry mumbles, pouting down at the duvet and dropping her hands. Louis tosses one of her sweaters over to the girl on the bed and it lands in her lap.   
  
"Put that on, you'll freeze and Elliot is coming over soon," Louis says and stretches again, lifting herself up onto her tip toes before bouncing back onto the balls of her feet. Harry only nods once, pulling the large green Adidas hoodie over her head. Louis notices how the sweater match's her best friends eyes, which are still glassy and bleary from heavy sleep.   
  
"Do you want to make breakfast or should we take a chance and have me do it?" Louis wonders, walking over to the door that leads to the hallway. She glances over her shoulder as Harry heaves herself off the bed, tangling her legs in the sheets but still managing to not hurt herself on the hardwood. It takes gripping onto Louis' shoulder to keep her balance.   
  
"Absolutely not, I'm not letting you burn down our flat," Harry grumbles, pecking her lips on Louis' shoulder before walking around and down the hall to the kitchen, long legs carrying her in only a few strides. Louis stares after her with endearment before turning back to her bed, hands roaming through the sheets to find her phone. Through the open door she can hear Harry rummaging around in the kitchen for something edible, lazily dropping pans down onto the stove. Louis makes a mental note to go grocery shopping perhaps later today as she thumbs through her phone, one knee on the bed and the foot of her other leg planted on the floor.   
  
"Lou!" Harry calls from the kitchen, and Louis sticks her phone in the waistband of her joggers before walking down the short hall to the kitchen. Harry is standing with her arms crossed over her chest, hair in a messy bun and eyebrows furrowed in frustration.   
  
"When was the last time you went grocery shopping?" Harry asks as Louis leans against the counter. "Because we have literally no food. I didn't notice because we've been eating out all the time."   
  
"I was gonna go Tesco's or something tonight," Louis offers, looking up at Harry from under her lashes. Harry purses her lips and sighs.   
  
"Okay, that's fine. Sorry, I'm just cranky. My back hurts and everything and-"   
  
"It's fine, really," Louis interrupts Harry, moving forward. She places a hand on the small of Harry's back and smiles up at her best friend, and it takes a few seconds but Harry smiles back. The refrigerator beeps to sound that it's still open, letting out the cold air into the already freezing flat, but the two girls ignore it as Louis presses her forehead against Harry's chest. Harry mumbles something and rests her chin on the smaller girl's head, bringing an arm to wrap around her shoulders.   
  
"I can cancel on Elliot if you want to go out for breakfast," Louis offers once they pull away from their embrace.   
  
"No, I'm not gonna make you do that," Harry says softly. She yawns again, plump lips widening into an "O" shape, and rubs her fingers against a closed eye.   
  
"Jesus, I'm exhausted."  
  
"How much sleep did you get?"  
  
"Dunno, like. An hour or two maybe?" Harry shakes her head, bun already coming loose at the top. Louis sighs.   
  
"Yeah, okay. I'm telling Elliot to just come over later or something. We're putting on our shoes and going out for a breakfast date," Louis says, clapping her hands together. Harry doesn't say anything, but as Louis pulls out her phone and looks down at it, she thinks that maybe she can see just the faintest trace of a smirk on Harry's lips.   
  
Louis shoots Elliot a quick text saying that Harry has a massive hangover and is too sick to even stand up on her own, so she needs a quiet day. As she pockets her phone, she doesn't even feel that guilty for canceling on her boyfriend and lying about why. Which... is weird. Normally she'd be wringing her hands over even _considering_ lying to him.   
  
She looks up at Harry, who is on the verge of falling asleep standing up and in serious need of some shitty diner coffee. Louis grabs Harry's hand and they go into the foyer, Harry lazily slipping on her old raggedy Toms and shoving her hands in the pocket of Louis' sweater. She didn't notice it before, but Harry's joggers are definitely too small to be hers, the ends clinging onto the girl's calves.   
  
"Are you wearing my pants?" Louis wonders, raising a brow as she grabs her keys off the hook by the front door. Harry glances down, more hair falling from her bun, and shrugs.   
  
"I wasn't really paying attention when I got dressed for bed," she murmurs. Louis smiles softly and they go out into the hallway of their flat building, and discover once they make it outside that their home isn't much warmer than the air outside. Harry pulls Louis close and the smaller girl tucks herself in Harry's side as they walk down the street to Louis' car. Last night after work the traffic had been brutal, and there weren't any spots close to the flat unless you walked another building down.   
  
Harry's long fingers play with Louis' hair as they walk, short nails scratching at her scalp. Louis hums in appreciation and leans against Harry further until they stop walking altogether, pressing against each other and drinking in the warmth their bodies emit. She knows they're standing in the middle of the sidewalk in November, but right now Harry is so warm and that's really all Louis cares about at the moment.   
  
Until both of their stomach wail in unison with hunger. Harry giggles and they keep walking, Louis unlocking Harry's door first because she knows she's freezing, as per usual - as if the incessant chattering of her teeth wasn't enough to tell. Louis makes it quick, turning on the car and then blasting the heat, making sure the vents are pointed away from Harry since the air will be cold at first.   
  
As Louis pulls out of the parking spot, Harry turns on the radio and puts the volume down to where it's just background noise; already Christmas music is playing and while both are ecstatic for it, it's too much this early in the morning. Louis glances at the dashboard and realizes it's only eight and that they could've slept in for at least another hour. It's Saturday, and neither of them have classes.   
  
Harry was the one that proposed to Louis about being flat mates, back in their last year of high school. They had been sitting on the roof, chain smoking and sharing a bottle of wine, curled up against each other. It was early March, the air finally warming up, and the night felt clear. Harry's voice had wavered, as if she were afraid of Louis saying no, as if she were afraid that they'd drift apart after so many years of being by each other's sides. Louis only whispered assurances, told Harry how they'd get out of that small town and find a place in London, no matter how shitty that place was.  
  
They fell asleep on the roof that night, fingers and legs tangled together and heads tucked against shoulders.   
  
That was nearly two years ago and in that time, they had carved lives for themselves in London. Harry had a string of girlfriends, Louis had Elliot, Harry worked in a bakery and Louis had a paid internship at a publishing company while simultaneously studying drama. Their nights were crammed with too much homework, Netflix, full mugs of tea going cold. Every Friday night they tried their best to meet up with their friends at the pub down the street, which almost always lead to Louis and Harry nursing each other through their hangovers the next morning.   
  
The drive to the breakfast diner is short; if it were warmer out, they could have walked, but that definitely wasn't an option at the moment. Louis pulls into the parking lot and keeps the car on for a few short moments so Harry can soak in the heat from the vents, both knowing the diner will be freezing inside. Harry leans over the center console to lay her head in Louis' lap sleepily, unruly hair fanning out across Louis' thighs. Louis' stomach pulls a bit as she stares down at her friend and hesitantly runs her fingers through the dark curls, which feel like silk underneath her fingertips. She loves her hair probably more than Harry does herself, always braiding it and going through with a comb instead of a brush to get out the knots but keep it curly.   
  
For a few moments the only sound in the car is the low hum of Christmas classics on the radio and the air vents blasting heat into the small space. Harry, knowing that they've been beyond crossing the line of 'personal space' for a long time, turns her head to push her face closer to Louis' crotch. Again, Louis' stomach jolts, but she sits still and keeps threading her small fingers through her friend's curls. Harry's body is bent at angle that could probably only be described as torturously uncomfortable, but she hasn't moved yet so it probably isn't that bad.   
  
"Lou," Harry whines, drawing out the nickname, voice muffled by the fabric of Louis' joggers.   
  
"What is it, Curly?" Louis asks, voice soft.   
  
"Do you ever feel like you've got the munchies even though you haven't smoked?"   
  
Louis bursts out laughing at Harry's question, throwing her head back against the seat. Harry shoots up and Louis knows she's pouting.   
  
"Let's get your tummy full, love," Louis says breathlessly, wiping a tear away on her cheek. Harry huffs and pushes her car door open, shutting it softly so that it won't slam. Shaking her head, Louis shuts off the car and follows Harry into the diner. Harry immediately curls within herself, the freezing cold atmosphere of the diner getting to her. Louis thinks now she should have given her friend more than just one sweater, and as they slide into their booth, she tries to ignore how Harry's not wearing a bra and she can clearly see the perkiness of her nipples.   
  
Dragging a hand down her face, Louis drags her eyes away from Harry and looks out the window they're seated next to. The whole world just looks grey, clouds white and silver shielding the sun. Across from Louis, Harry merely sits with her hands in her lap, waiting for their waitress to come over and when she does, Harry is quick to order.   
  
"Can I get, like, three coffees? Straight black, nothing else please," she says, looking up at the waitress from under her lashes. Louis' heart pulls and it suddenly feels as if a match has been lit to her bones, turning to look at the waitress. From her angle, Louis can't see the name tag on her chest, but the girl is only around their age and a pretty blonde with artful eyeliner and a delicate smile. Louis watches as their waitress jots down Harry's order.   
  
"Aren't you gonna order anything else, love?" Louis says to Harry, louder than necessary. Harry shifts across from her and Louis tears her eyes away from the blonde to look into Harry's, which are wide and tired and even a little bloodshot.   
  
"Erm, I guess," Harry mumbles, raising a brow questioningly at her friend before looking at the menu before her. Louis and the blonde share a small smile, only Louis' obviously looks much more forced.  
  
What the hell is wrong with me, Louis thinks, running a hand through her thick hair. She still isn't used to the pixie cut she got just a week before but loves it anyway, loves it because it was suggested by Harry and it actually looks really good.   
  
Harry orders herself a full English before handing back the menu and Louis seconds that order, only with Yorkshire tea rather than coffee.   
  
"You okay?" Harry wonders as the waitress walks away with their order, as if nothing had happened. And, okay. Nothing did happen - it was just in Louis' head.   
  
"What? Yeah, 'course. Why?" Louis knows her voice sounds edged but she doesn't even know why herself. Harry raises a brow again and a small smile plays at her lips, dimple intending her cheek.   
  
"I can't remember the last time you got all jealous like that, Lou. Makes me all tingly inside," Harry teases, shimmying her shoulders, a glint in her eye. Louis snorts and suddenly becomes incredibly occupied with the salt shaker on the windowsill.   
  
"Just trying to save my bestie from getting her heart broken by a straight girl," Louis says softly, something inside her fluttering.   
  
"I was just hitting on her, not trying to give her my number. Should I though? Maybe she's not straight..." Louis clenches her jaw and runs a hand through her wild hair again.   
  
"I have to pee," she mumbles, and pushes herself out of the booth, walking across the diner to the restroom. Her cheeks feel hot, like she has a sunburn, and she doesn't even know what's going on but all she can think about Harry's smooth skin against her this morning. Louis pushes open the door to the all-gender inclusive restroom and locks the door behind her, not really knowing where to go from here because she doesn't have to actually pee.   
  
Rubbing her knuckles against her eyes, Louis walks over to the sink and turns on the cold water, splashing it onto her face. Maybe that will help me cool down, she thinks, staring at her damp face in the mirror. She looks like a true uni student - purple bruises underneath her eyes, hair sticking up unevenly and unwashed, eyelids drooping and cheekbones just a little more prominent than usual. Sighing, Louis shuts of the water and uses the sleeve of her jumper to wipe her face dry before going back out.   
  
Louis catches Harry's eyes from across the diner, who is already on her second mug of coffee.   
  
"How was the pee?" Harry wonders as Louis sits down.   
  
"I need to drink more water," Louis says flatly, sliding her mug between her hands but not actually drinking the tea. Harry giggles into her coffee and returns her attention to their waitress, who is just a few tables away taking someone else's order.   
  
Louis doesn't like it and she can't figure out why.   
  
Not wanting to be a bitch again, Louis settles for messing about on her phone until the food gets to their table. Elliot still hasn't texted back yet, and Louis can't tell if he turned off his read receipts or just hasn't read the message about not coming over. Something inside lets Louis know it's the former.   
  
Finally their food comes, a different lady serving them this time, and Harry is visibly disappointed to the watchful eye about the arrangement. And Louis feels bad for it, but she's a little happy that the blonde didn't return.   
  
Harry is hungrier than she initially thought, immediately going at her plate like it personally offended her and she wanted to fight it. Louis tried her best to keep her eyes off the way her friend's tongue licked her lips repeatedly, darting out and running slow. It's hard to concentrate on how good her own meal is when suddenly, for some reason, Harry seems much more appetizing.   
  
What the fuck did I drink last night? Louis thinks, forcing herself to tear her eyes away and look out the window. The cars on the street pass by slow, pedestrians walking like zombies in the early morning hours and other hailing down taxis. It definitely looks like it's going to rain later on in the day and Louis just really wants to curl up on the couch with Harry and watch Disney movies, but they need to go shopping for food.   
  
She's drawn to Harry's lips again.   
  
"Like what you see?" Harry teases, smirking. Louis blinks rapidly, coming up from being underwater, and shakes her head.   
  
"You stick out your tongue before you eat," she mutters, becoming extremely occupied with finishing off her sausage. Harry only giggles and Louis knows that her dimples are indenting her cheeks again, even though she doesn't see it.   
  
"You've told me that a lot when you stare at my lips. Is it a pet peeve or something?" Harry continues, waving her fork around. Louis looks at Harry's long, slender fingers and her blood boils before she shrugs. She takes an unnecessarily large gulp from her tea and it burns the back of her throat but she blinks around it.   
  
The thing is, Louis' admitted over-concentration on Harry's lips or the softness of her skin or the beauty of her eyes isn't new. It's existed for most of their years of friendship but she's just _appreciative_ of her best friend's beauty, nothing more, especially since she's most _definitely_ straight. The curiosity and appreciation skyrocketed when Harry came out to Louis when they were fifteen, but that was just because Harry was so beautiful and Harry liked girls and that was neat. Louis and Harry had always been strictly platonic and that was neat, too.   
  
Ever since they moved in together two years ago, though, platonic somehow just felt empty. Being platonic with Harry left a burning hole in Louis' stomach and chest, and Harry being shirtless around the flat was more of a distraction than it had been before. But Louis has Elliot, Louis loves Elliot. Louis and Elliot have been dating for a year and a half now.   
  
But for some reason, once their six months had come around and Harry started dating their friend Cara, it all felt very wrong. Louis admits to herself at night when Elliot hasn't texted back all day or called or stopped by, that something changed with him back then. It's harder to admit in the same string of thoughts that something changed between Louis and Harry when Cara came around.   
  
"Is it okay if I just drop you off at home and go to the store? You need to get your rest." Louis' voice is soft as she addresses Harry, slipping some bills into the blonde waitresses' folder. Harry insists on giving her a generous tip and she gives Louis her puppy eyes, so she caves.   
  
"I can go with you," Harry insists for the fifth time as they walk to Louis' car. Louis only shakes her head each time Harry speaks, ignoring the way her heart pounds when Harry practically throws herself over the center console and slides her knee between Louis' thighs. Her dark mane of hair creates a curtain surrounding Louis' face, and Harry is close enough to where Louis can feel her warm coffee-scented breath against her lips. Louis swallows thickly.   
  
"I don't wanna be home alone, it's _cold_ there and you're really warm. Plus every time you go grocery shopping you get junk food," Harry pouts. Louis' hands are frozen, one resting on her own knee and the other holding the key that's almost all the way in the ignition.   
  
"Just text me a list this time, love, okay? You need sleep. Then I'll come home and we can have some hot chocolate and watch Love, Actually or something," Louis sighs, pushing Harry back into the passenger seat.   
  
"I want to watch _Blue Is The Warmest Color._ You haven't watched that with me yet," Harry says, and then she smirks.   
  
"Because I know that movie is practically lesbian porn and the rest is the main chick eating spaghetti all the time," Louis huffs, starting the car. It stutters for a moment from the cold before starting up.   
  
"But it's still beautiful, Lou, maybe it'll help you realize that deep inside you're not-"   
  
"Stop, stop, stop. I'm straight. We've had this conversation before, okay?" Then the words come tumbling out of Louis' mouth before she can actually regret them. "You know what? Yeah, let's watch it. Just so that I can prove you wrong that my sexuality is sound and nothing will make me question it."   
  
\---  
  
By the time Louis comes home from Tesco's with arms full of bags, Harry has already set up the film and drank half a carton of eggnog and has Christmas music blasting through the flat. Louis finds her sliding in her socks on the tiled floor of the kitchen, wearing only a pair of underwear.   
  
"You tell me it's too cold in here yet you dance around practically naked," Louis huffs, gingerly dropping the bags onto the floor.   
  
"When you physically exert yourself you warm up. Also, I drank quite a bit of eggnog. Alcohol makes you warm," Harry says, before throwing her head back to lip-sync the chorus of the current song into a whisk.   
  
"I seriously doubt there's enough alcoholic content in that egg nog to make you feel anything," Louis points out, "it's probably better if you put the stuff away. I don't know where anything goes. You're the domestic one."  
  
"We're practically wife and wife."  
  
"Mhmm," Louis murmurs, running a hand through her hair. "I'm gonna go wash up quick while you do that and then we can watch your five hour long French lesbian porno."   
  
"It's _art,"_ Harry hisses between clenched teeth as Louis walked down the hall to their cluttered, tiny bathroom. The flat is fairly old, old enough for the bathtub to be the clawfoot kind with chipping white paint. Harry has managed to cram plants and knick-knacks in every nook and cranny possible in their bathroom, a fishbowl on the stained glass window sill. It had been left to Harry to take care of the goldfish, because Louis forgot about it when Harry went to visit her mum for two days and the fish nearly died. Louis distinctly remembers Harry dramatically weeping on the bathroom floor about it, crying out "Stevie" with every gasp of breath. The fish was already indirectly declared as Harry's when she insisted on naming their fish Stevie Nicks, anyway.  
  
Louis doesn't close the door all the way as she starts the water in the tub and strips, both her and Harry having seen each other naked more than once. They had even bathed with each other multiple times when money was tight and the water bill was getting expensive - but that's never something Louis would confess to Elliot.   
  
The water is scalding hot and it's just what Louis needs in the cold flat, sinking into the tub and completely submerging herself under the water. She knows her skin will become red and angry at any moment, so Louis is quick to wash her short hair with only shampoo. And if she uses Harry's fancy body wash, nobody really has to know. Not that Harry actually cares, anyway.   
  
Louis returns to Harry fifteen minutes later in a pair of joggers and one of Harry's jumpers. She's relieved to see that Harry has put on a jumper herself but it's definitely Louis', one of her many gifted Adidas items but not the same green as before. Waiting on the coffee table in front of the couch are two mugs of hot chocolate and on the TV is the menu for the film. Harry is quick to pull Louis down on the couch and they fight over who is big and little spoon this time; Harry wins, Louis having to settle for being big spoon. She doesn't mind too much, though, and as the movie goes on, Louis suddenly is becoming very in tune with how Harry's body is shaped against her's. Not that she hasn't noticed before, but this time it's different, her chin resting on Harry's shoulder as they lay on the couch. Their eyes are locked on the screen and the main girl - Adèle, Louis thinks - and the other girl are -  
  
"Are they actually eating each other out? Aren't they like teenagers? Is that even legal to film? _Oh my god?"_ Louis whispers, tightening her arm around Harry's waist. Harry giggles and shushes her friend.   
  
"Does this make you uncomfortable? We can fast-forward. It's a pretty extensive scene..." Harry mumbles, turning her head slightly to try and face Louis. Louis shakes her head.   
  
"No, no. I'm fine. Just - surprised..." Louis wonders if Harry can feel her quickened heartbeat against the spot between her shoulder blades.   
  
As her eyes stick to the screen, Louis' hot chocolate is going cold but her skin is suddenly on fire, pulse thrumming in her ears. Adèle and Emma are moaning but all Louis can hear in her own head is Harry's moans when she brings a girl home every once in a while and Louis has to try and ignore it. All around, Louis just feels impossibly hot, and Harry shifts in her arms, hooking one foot around Louis' delicate ankle. Louis inhales deeply.   
  
By the end of the film, Louis is a mess of tears, confusion, and intense mental anguish.   
  
"I don't see why they had to end it like that," she cries, burying her face in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry only runs her fingers through Louis' short hair, dull nails scratching at her scalp and plump lips brushing over her friend's forehead.   
  
"Was it worth everything you complained about beforehand?" Harry wonders, a teasing edge to her voice. Louis sniffles exaggeratedly and sits up, pushing Harry onto the couch and laying on top of the girl.   
  
"Yes," Louis mumbles, rolling her eyes. She brings up a hand to wipe away the tears on her cheeks and she sighs, sniffling more.   
  
"Good. Any questioning of sexualities going on in that cute head of yours?"   
  
"Is lesbian sex really like that?"  
  
Harry snorts unattractively and stares up at the ceiling.   
  
"I mean, considering it's from a straight guy's perspective? I guess it's less pornographic than it could've been and more like, romantically angsty or whatever," Harry says, "but, like, I guess it's kind of similar to my one-night stands. I've seen it so many times though, it's all very obviously falsely passionate."   
  
"I don't know how you manage to watch actual porn, then," Louis mumbles into Harry's shoulder. Harry's body shakes with laughter under Louis' and she uses the hand not in her friend's hair to stroke up and down Louis' spine.   
  
"Well, I don't. All that stuff is fake. I don't know how anyone actually gay can get off on it. It's all for straight guys that jerk off to lesbian porn and then say gay people are gross," Harry states simply, "I'm tired. Let's take a nap."   
  
"How the hell do you expect me to sleep after that movie? I have so many questions about Adèle and her obsession with spaghetti and why nobody fucking talks the entire time."   
  
"Do you really have questions?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then shut up and go to sleep. I'm tired and horny and need relief." Harry flips them onto their sides and this time Louis is little spoon, their bodies slotting together. Both of them fall asleep almost instantly to the sound of rain pounding on the roof and faint Christmas music.   
  
\---  
  
Louis is torn between laying in bed with her earphones on full blast, suffering, or taking up Zayn's offer on pizza and a Christmas movie marathon.   
  
Harry is getting laid tonight, is the problem. It's only nine and already Louis can hear Harry's moans ghost through the space under the door separating their rooms. Louis has her phone propped up on her laptop screen, Facetiming Zayn and trying to not look like she's about to stick forks in her ears.   
  
"I'm ordering pizza and Home Alone is coming on in thirty minutes," Zayn says. Louis glances at her phone and can see he's sitting on the couch, leaning forward so he can prop his elbow on his knee and comfortably hold his phone.   
  
"Yeah, I think I'll come over," Louis sighs, biting her lip. Another gasp comes in from the room over and Louis cards a hand through her hair. "Can you hear that?"  
  
"I feel bad for you," is all Zayn says. Louis snorts and picks up her phone, shutting her laptop screen closed.   
  
"I'll be over in, like, ten okay? Do you want me to pick up anything?"   
  
"Bring some blankets. Kind of feel like building a fort..." Louis smiles into the camera and Zayn smiles back softly before they end the call.   
  
If anything came from living with Harry, it would be the extensive knowledge of what she's into sexually. Louis knows she'll return home from her sleepover with Zayn to find Harry scratched and bitten up, and something will stir inside Louis that she's never been able to describe. Usually Louis takes the refuge of Zayn's flat when Harry brings girls over and she's grateful that she doesn't have a class until later on in the day tomorrow.   
  
Slipping on her shoes, Louis grabs her phone charger and wallet and shoves them into the deep pocket of her joggers. The heater in the flat broke, so she's already wearing heavy clothing, three shirts and a sweater. Hopefully Zayn's newer flat will have a more reliable heating system. Shutting off the light, Louis walks down to the kitchen and leaves a sticky note on the fridge for Harry.   
  
_Went to Zayn's for the night, probably won't see you till tomorrow evening. Indian for dinner?_ The handwriting is a messy scrawl with a dying pen but she knows Harry will be able to read it anyway, and before grabbing her keys, Louis fills a laundry basket with fleece blankets and some stuffed animals.   
  
She can still hear Harry. She wonders what the girl's name is, and if she knows that this is a one-time thing. Louis doesn't feel sorry for her.   
  
Louis locks the front door behind her and carries the laundry basket with both arms wide, extremely grateful for the abundant amount of street lights on the sidewalk. When she places the basket in her passenger seat, Louis feels sort of empty. It's very rare that Harry isn't sitting next to her and when she starts the car, the Christmas station is still on. She turns it to a low hum in the back of her mind and drives the few minutes to Zayn's flat.   
  
It's much more modern compared to Louis', with sleek black hardwood floors rather than white, termite-eaten planks, and burgundy walls that look freshly painted. Over the years, Harry and Louis have cultivated ways to strategically place photos and painting and shelves over scratches and stains on their walls. Zayn has an actual shower, and brand new kitchen appliances, and instead of a raggedy futon in the living room he has a large black leather couch that almost feels like a cloud.   
  
_Elf_ is playing on the huge flatscreen mounted on the wall and Zayn embraces Louis tightly, mumbling how he's missed her even though they saw each other just Friday night.   
  
"Sorry about Harry," Zayn murmurs once they settle down. They're surrounded by thick blankets and fairy lights in the middle of his living room, leaning against each other and messily eating greasy pizza. Louis shrugs.   
  
"It's not anything I'm not used to," she says softly, picking off a mushroom that had come into her half. Zayn only hums thoughtfully.   
  
"Does it, like, make you uncomfortable?" Zayn wonders after some silence between them, the credits for _Elf_ rolling on the split-screen as a preview for _Home Alone_ also plays. His long, elegant fingers pick at his pizza crust before he tosses it in the box.   
  
"No, not at all," Louis insists, "I mean. It makes me feel weird. But not an uncomfortable kind of weird. It's hard to explain, I guess."   
  
"Is it because it's Harry, maybe?"   
  
"Yeah, maybe," Louis mumbles, resting her head on Zayn's shoulder. He wraps an arm around her waist and they focus on the TV, _Home Alone_ finally coming on. Zayn knows it's Louis' number one favorite Christmas movie so of course he'd invite her right before it came on. He's a saint, really.   
  
"Do you think it could be... I dunno. Jealousy maybe?" Zayn asks softly, fifteen minutes into the movie, and Louis chokes on her glass of wine.   
  
"What?" Louis looks at Zayn with furrowed brows and his dark eyes are piercing, pursing his lips.   
  
"Why would I be jealous? I'm straight," Louis says quickly, "I'm pretty sure it's just because I've known her since before we hit puberty and it's kind of weird to remember she's a human that enjoys sex."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Yeah." More silence.   
  
"Lou, I'm just saying, I know it's been years and I know you've got El and all -"  
  
"No. Okay? No. We've had this conversation countless times. There's nothing going on between Harry and I behind the scenes," Louis snaps.   
  
"Well, you two act practically married, Lou. You kiss each other on the cheek. You take baths together. Harry cooks dinner and does the laundry and you give each other massages after stressful days at work."   
  
Louis folds her hands in her lap, staring down at them. Zayn is right, of course. Harry and Louis _do_ act married. But that's purely because they're best friends, they grew up together. Nothing more.   
  
"Well, it doesn't matter because I'm straight, now does it?" Louis mutters darkly, focusing on the movie now. She can feel Zayn still staring at her, watchful, for a while but chooses to ignore it, giggling to herself over the funny parts. Eventually, Liam comes over around the end of the movie, which Louis has devoted her full attention to. Around her Zayn does his dishes, orders more pizza, piles more blankets around her shoulders and legs. When Liam comes over he and Zayn embrace each other with a tight hug and Louis doesn’t fail to notice how their eyes linger on each other's lips as they pull away; Louis has known Liam and Zayn for two years and in that, all she has ever seen between them is longing stares but no communication. She supposes it can have to do with Liam’s girlfriend, Sophia, despite the fact that they’re long-distance and in a mostly open relationship.

“What’s on next?” Liam wonders, cuddled against Zayn in the blanket fort, yawning. Zayn uses his open mouth as an opportunity to shove a piece of pizza crust against Liam’s tongue and Liam swats him away, both giggling like schoolgirls.

 _“A Christmas Story,_ I think,” Louis murmurs, rolling her eyes at her friends.

“How’s Harry doing?” Liam asks Louis, smiling widely. Louis can feel Zayn’s stare on her from across the blanket fort but she maintains eye contact with Liam.

“Good, like usual. She has a girl over tonight,” Louis says, shrugging.

“Typical Harry,” Zayn mumbles, and Liam gives him a confused look, but nods in agreement. Harry has had a steady number of one-night stands and relationships that only lasted maximum a few weeks ever since she moved to London with Louis. She never seems very upset, though, and is usually the one to break things off. Louis has seen most of the break-ups first hand; Harry is very good with them, very gentle and has not once become enemies with an ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, eyes going out of focus. She’s getting sleepy, the time nearing midnight, and really just wants to go sleep now after her conversation with Zayn earlier. Which, honestly, did drain her a bit. It happens like that after every time Zayn tries to talk to Louis about Harry, and sometimes she wonders if he actually knows more than she does that consistently is making him ask. The interrogations have been relentless for the past year and a half, ever since Harry and Louis had begun to fall into their own lives and routines that constantly wrapped around each other. They were inseparable, like they promised to be on that roof in their last year.

Zayn turns down the volume of the next movie and the three of them begin to doze off, laying down and wrapping themselves in each other and thick blankets.

\---

“I don’t know if I did anything wrong, Niall,” Harry mutters to herself, dragging a finger down the side of her pint, adjusting her sitting position on the uncomfortable balcony railing of Niall’s flat. It can’t be past three in the morning and the breeze weaving through the high buildings of London brushes against Harry’s face, feeling at her hair. She shivers, goosebumps rising on her exposed skin. It’s nearly December but she still hasn’t bothered to put on anything other than a pair of joggers and a muscle tee.

“It was just a movie,” Niall says, his voice comforting. Only it’s not really comforting Harry. She supports her feet against one of the chairs near her and leans back on the railing, staring down at the street, taxis going by slowly. Niall lives in one of the busy sections of London, people constantly milling about on the streets drunk and happy. Harry’s hair creates a curtain around her face, hiding from Niall.

“I know,” Harry says after a moment, returning her gaze to her friend. Niall is from Ireland, came to London in hopes of pursuing a songwriting career, something he and Harry have in common. After Harry’s girl of the night left (what was her name? Rita? Harry couldn’t remember) she drove to Niall’s flat unannounced, pulling at her long hair and clenching her teeth together.

Niall was awake anyway, thankfully, watching infomercials and eating his third bag of crisps alone in his flat. Which, isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence with Niall Horan, but Harry found it both endearing and sad.

“Song creds… Niall Horan, Ed Sheeran, and Harry Styles,” Niall mutters, sitting at the glass table with a beat-up noteband and a pen. They were putting the finishing touches on a song they had spent the past month writing with Ed, and all three were keeping secret from their other friends.

“Are we going with the title I suggested? L.T.?” Niall wonders, and Harry sighs heavily, dropping down from the railing. She circles to Niall’s side and quickly reads through the lyrics before shaking her head.

“No. It’d be way too obvious,” she finally says, “like, really obvious. I can’t have these lyrics and then have that be the title.”

“Okay,” Niall says under his breath, eyebrows pushing together in concentration as they both stare down at the notepad. “Okay. What about _Little Things?_ It still has the L.T. part if you make it into an acronym.” Harry pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and runs a thumb over one of the bruises on her neck from a few hours before.

“I…” Harry sighs and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. We can do that. It’s not like it’ll ever be shown until we’re famous someday. And by then it probably won’t be relevant.”

“You shouldn’t say that. Don’t think like that,” Niall whispers, grabbing Harry’s hand. She looks down at him and he looks up, both silent for a moment before Harry gives her friend a small smile and nods once. Niall smiles back and shuts the notebook, clicks the pen and hooks it into the pages. On the street below they can hear police sirens and shouting; Niall is seven floors up in his building, his flat modern and cozy like Zayn’s. Harry used to be jealous of it, when she and Louis were starting out, but now she loves her own flat and how it seems so lived in. It’s the definition of a home.

“Wanna help me put Christmas lights on the railing?” Niall asks after a while. Harry looks behind her, out to the dark of the city that has only a few lights from the surrounding buildings.

“I guess it’s time you should get into the spirit,” Harry agrees, and she and Niall grab their pints and notebooks before heading back into the warmth of his flat, the fireplace lit on the other side of the living room. He’s already started putting up some Christmas decorations throughout the home, such as snowmen knick knacks and fake pine garlands around his fireplace mantle.

Harry waits by the sliding glass door that leads out to the balcony and watches as Niall goes through a giant plastic tub by the couch. It’s filled halfway with various Christmas decorations and his hands fish through, looking for the lights. Harry’s phone vibrates a few times in the pocket of her trackies and she ignores it, figuring it’s Rita or whatever her name is and she’ll never answer. She never does, for any of the girls she brings home.

Eventually, Niall finds multi-colored Christmas lights, but he and Harry have to sit down on the plush carpet and untangle twenty feet of it before they can go back outside. They sit in peaceful silence for most of it, Niall sometimes bringing up how he and Harry will be a famous duet someday and them and the rest of their friends can live in a big treehouse mansion together. Harry laughs and agrees, mind immediately turning to Louis and the thought of living together forever, because if Harry was asked if she hadn’t dreamt of it before and she no, she’d be lying.

Sometimes, when Louis falls asleep on top of Harry on the couch during a binge watch for a show or Harry sees Louis’ face when she comes home to her favorite meal on the table, Harry repeats it like a mantra in her head; _I could do this for the rest of my life._

When Harry and Niall finish untangling the lights, their hands hurt, and they drag the long line out the door and plug it into the wall socket. Only a little over half of the lights blink to life, but they wrap them around the metal railing of the balcony three times and the space looks a little more alive in the dead of a winter night. Niall lifts up his hand for a high-five and Harry hesitates before hitting the palm of her hand against his, his cold fingers intertwining through hers. They smile at each other and Harry wonders what she would do without Niall Horan and his understanding ways, his talents and his crazy laughter.

She wonders if Louis is asleep or awake right now with Zayn and if anyone else is with them. She wonders if Elliot texted her back after ignoring her message from Saturday morning about what basically said, _I’m choosing Harry over you today like usual, sorry._

“I should probably get home. I have an early class and’ve gotten hardly any sleep these past few nights,” Harry says, their hands dropping. She puts both of hers in her pockets, fingers wrapping around the phone in one. The text alerts have stopped, finally, but she counted five or six. Harry makes a mental note to check them on her way to her class tomorrow.

Niall leads Harry to the front door of his flat and they hug each other goodbye, promising to meet sometime this coming up week with Ed to put the finishing touches on the song.

“Are you doing okay, H?” Niall whispers as Harry turns away, about to walk down the hall. She stops and stares ahead at the elevator doors at the end of the hall before she looks back at Niall with a small smile.

“Doing as usual,” she says softly, and Niall nods once with his lips pressed together before shutting the door. Harry sighs and stares down at her feet, studying the messy and beat-up grey Toms that Louis bought for her years ago. On the left shoe, right where her big toe is, is a messy “L” in fading permanent marker that Louis had written one night while they got drunk and wrote each other’s initials all over their skin. The next morning, Harry had woken up to tiny “L”’s covering the back of her hand, accompanied by a heart.

If it had been her choice, she never would have washed that hand again.

Running a hand through her hair, Harry resumes walking down the hall and hurries outside once she reaches to lobby, keys in hand and exhaustion finally setting in. Earlier she was still riding the adrenaline rush she gets from sex, but now she’s crashing down and needs sleep. She ignores cat-calls from drunk young men down the sidewalk as she unlocks her car, holding back a string of cuss words because she’s just really not in the mood to deal with these guys.

Before Harry can't keep her mouth from running, she drives off and back to her own flat. Her car smells more like Louis than herself and she focuses on that, brain slightly fuzzy from the pint she had in Niall’s flat, and is grateful to finally get home. Louis’ car isn’t parked on the street and the small spark of hope that she had come home is extinguished, Harry having to settle for sleeping in her own bed and shaking under the covers.

The flat is too silent without Louis’ heartbeat and breath, too cold without the heat of her body, and Harry puts on Louis’ Adidas sweater that smells like her rather than going for being shirtless tonight. It’s too cold, anyway.

\---

“I’m home!” Louis calls, shoving the door open with her shoulder and making sure the bags hooked on her arms don’t tip over too badly. “Elliot’s joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind!”

Louis shuts the front door behind her with a foot and stumbles into the kitchen, where Harry is sitting on the counter drinking tea from a rainbow mug and wearing only underwear and a Santa hat. Stopping dead in her tracks near the table, Louis’ eyes quickly roam over Harry before she drops the bags of takeout onto the counter next to the sink.

“You should go put some clothes on,” she mutters,  her face on fire as she turns her back to Harry and begins taking out the styrofoam boxes from the bags. “Elliot is gonna be here any minute.” Harry doesn’t say anything, but Louis hears her drop from the counter.

Suddenly, a pair of warm lips are ghosting on the back of Louis’ neck, and then they’re gone, Harry walking towards her bedroom in the back of the flat. Louis rests her hand on the counter, putting her weight on it as she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She has absolutely no idea what has been going with Harry these past few days and it’s driving Louis crazy.

Ever since Sunday night when Louis escaped to the refuge of Zayn’s flat to give Harry privacy, Harry has hardly said a word to Louis. It’s happened before, when Harry’s gotten moody, but her silent treatment has never lasted for this long - four days, to be exact. The only thing that has helped Louis indicate that Harry even knows Louis still exists is that while words have ceased to be exchanged, lingering touches have increased. And Louis supposes that with whatever is going on in Harry’s head right now, that’s the best she’s going to get.

Louis breaks out of her trance when there’s a knock at the door and she opens the boxes of food before making her way to the front door. Harry is standing at the end of the hall, face blank and arms crossed over her chest, and she and Louis stare at each other for a moment. When Elliot knocks again, Harry blinks slowly and goes into the kitchen. Sighing, Louis smiles the tiniest bit and opens the front door, Elliot pulling her into a hug before he comes into the flat.

“I’ve missed you,” Louis murmurs, arms still around Elliot’s neck. His skin is paler from the cold air outside and goosebumps are still risen on his skin.

“Missed you too,” Elliot says softly, and he connects their lips, Louis tilting her head back just a bit. It feels strange, kissing Elliot, because there’s nothing behind it. It’s not like how it was when they first started out, butterflies erupting in Louis’ stomach and fireworks dancing behind her eyes. Now it’s just an awkward embrace, practically, and she almost wishes for it to be over as soon as it starts.

Louis pulls away first.

“Harry’s being kinda moody lately so… don’t take it personally if she doesn’t talk to you,” she says, quiet so that Harry can’t hear from the kitchen. The smile on Elliot’s face drops and his thick brows furrow together, brown eyes searching Louis’ face.

“Do you ever think that sometimes you coddle her too much?” Elliot wonders, and Louis blinks at him, taken aback.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like. When she gets moody, you protect her and all that. And on Saturday you cancelled our plans so that she could get some rest or whatever,” Elliot says, “as if you and I had planned to do anything other than sit and watch TV.”

“You don’t need to get mad about it,” Louis says defensively, “I guess I’m just protective of her. I know what she needs to feel okay. It’s not that big of a deal.” Elliot doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head and walks around Louis, into the kitchen. She’s left standing at the front door and sighs, running a hand through her hair before following after him.

Harry is already sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone and eating her food silently. She doesn’t acknowledge Louis as she walks in and Elliot only gives her a small glance, piling his plate with rice and vegetables before sitting opposite Harry. The tension in the room is thick, constricting Louis from breathing properly, and suddenly she doesn’t at all feel hungry anymore.

"I'll be right back," she mutters, and turns around, walking down the hall to the small bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and locks it, hands on her hips as she stares at the goldfish bowl directly in front of her face. Louis can hear the rain against the stained glass window, heavy and incessant and not at all calming like usual. Blinking slowly, Louis sits on the slim edge of the old bathtub and keeps staring at Stevie, notices how the fish is unbelievably fat and thinks that when Harry is ready to talk to her again, she'll bring up how she's over feeding the pet.

Everything is silent, save for the rain, and Louis supposes it's a good thing if she doesn't hear screaming or smashing dishes from out in the kitchen. Harry and Elliot have fought before, which only resulted in Louis having to kick her own boyfriend out of the house before Harry made her attacks physical rather than verbal. It was so long ago she doesn't even remember what it was about - something petty, she's sure - but Harry and Elliot hardly have spoken since then. The situation is hard; Louis always tries to keep her attention on both even, especially since she lives with Harry, but Elliot quickly went from cute and fashionable bookworm to the biggest bore in the planet. Plus, he loves Starbucks way too much for Louis' liking. That place is too damn expensive for Louis' minimum wage internship.

Louis isn't sure how long she sits on the bathtub, but it was long enough to where she can hear Harry's heavy footsteps walk past the bathroom. The sound of her bedroom door shutting ghosts to Louis' ears and she stands up, walking back into the kitchen, where Elliot is washing his dishes by hand because they don't have a dishwasher. He only glances up at Louis as she enters the room and she sighs, moving over to him. She wraps her arms around his waist from behind and rests her chin on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I focus on Harry so much. She's just really sensitive and all that. It makes me sad to see her sad," Louis murmurs, nosing at Elliot's jawline, and he ceases his cleaning.

"It's okay," he says, voice low and soft. "Sorry I'm such a dick about it. I know you've known her way longer than you've known me." Louis hums and closes her eyes, resting her head against Elliot's. They stand like that, Elliot finishing up on his dishes, and then they move to the couch, turning on the TV.

Louis is admittedly more than mortified to see that the menu for _Blue Is The Warmest Color_ is still on the screen when the TV is turned on. Her face flushes as Elliot goes ridged next to her.

"Um," Louis says, the eloquent girl she is, and lets out an awkward chuckle as she quickly changes the input of the TV from the DVD player to the cable box.

"Did you watch that?" Elliot wonders. His voice is level, conversational, but Louis can tell without having to look at her boyfriend that he isn't happy. At all.

"Erm. Yeah," she says, thumbing through the channels. Nothing is really on, so she settles for _Keeping Up With the Kardashians._ Which, normally she wouldn't be interested at all, but she's trying to put off an interrogation lead by her boyfriend.

"That's cool," he murmurs, and takes a deep breath. "With Harry?"

"Yeah. Have you seen it? It's pretty good." Louis tries to become fascinated in where Kim and Kanye are having their wedding in Italy but it's too difficult. She hopes her acting skills she's learned are paying off, for once.

"Nah. I mean, I know what it's about. It's a lesbian film, right? One of those LGBT things," Elliot continues, crossing his arms over his chest. The tension between them is palpable, worse than from earlier when Harry was in the room.

"Hah, yeah. It's one of Harry's favorites. I wanted to watch something else but, y'know Harry. She can be persuasive."

"Oh, I know." Louis goes cold at Elliot's tone of voice, the way it's still level but just faintly laced with enough venom to make her feel like a deer caught in headlights. The thing is, Louis doesn't even know _why_ she's so nervous.

"I think I'm gonna go," Elliot says after a while of silence, pushing himself up from the couch. He looks down at Louis and she stares back up, lips parting in confusion before she follows him to the front door. Elliot pulls her into a one-armed hug, kisses her on the cheek, murmurs a "Love you" before he's gone.

Louis can hear Harry singing from the back of the house, the strum of her acoustic guitar Louis bought for her this past birthday. Dragging a hand down her face, Louis locks the door and goes to turn off the TV, deciding that she's too exhausted to do anything else but lay in bed. She throws away the remaining trash from dinner, grabs a small bag of crisps because she still isn't that hungry but needs to eat something tonight. Harry is still singing when she goes into her own bedroom, burrowing herself under the covers and willing herself to fall asleep to the sound of Harry's voice.

Her phone vibrates a few times underneath her pillow and she checks it, Zayn's name on the screen and a missed call from her mum, but she just turns off the device and sets it on the bedside table. She can check them in the morning.

The rain doesn't stop as the night goes on and Louis can't sleep, heart aching for an indescribable reason. Harry's singing eventually stops and the light from her room coming in under the door goes out and Louis just. Louis feels so empty and she doesn't know why. She feels like her and Harry are getting a divorce and are sleeping in separate beds even though they aren't even actually married and never will be.

Finally, after what feels like hours of silence, Louis rolls over and falls into a light sleep, eyes falling shut and breathing shallow. She's trying to hold back tears, what for, she doesn't know. All the can think about is Harry ignoring her and Elliot's cold voice and how something is going on but she can't figure out what it is. And that drives Louis crazy; usually she's so quick to fix things but right now she doesn't even know what it is that's broken.

Louis isn't asleep enough to not hear the door to Harry's bedroom creak open. She's not asleep enough to try and stop her heart from fluttering in her chest as a sniffling Harry climbs in bed with her, pulling Louis close.

She's definitely, definitely not asleep enough to not notice the quiet sobs escaping Harry's mouth, to not notice the warm tears against the column of her neck.

If there wasn't anything that was broken before, there surely was now. Louis feels as if it may be her.

\---

Two weeks later, on December fourteenth, Elliot breaks up with Louis in a text. Louis ignores it but both get the message; it was coming eventually.

That didn't mean a part of Louis wasn't upset, though. For the first time in two years she was single, and she had also lost one of her best friends because while the breakup was mutual, it was bitter. He never said his reasoning, just a vague _I can't handle seeing you like this anymore._ Louis has no idea what the hell that means, and she sulks, lying in bed all day surrounded by empty bags of crisps and a pizza box at her feet, marathoning The X-Files.

Louis doesn't know where Harry is, but doesn't bother to text her, just keeping a steady small conversation with Zayn about a possible Christmas Eve party at someone's flat. So far the consensus is for Harry and Louis' place, because everyone thinks it's the most home-like of all, and Louis feels a swell of pride.

It doesn't take long for the doubts and self-analyzing to start setting in Louis' head, wondering what she did wrong to make Elliot break up with her. Did she gain weight? No, that's stupid, Elliot likes chubby girls. Was she too messy? Too overbearing?

Eventually, Louis' laptop dies, and she lies in bed in a starfish formation, staring up at the ceiling. The flat is completely silent, and every once in a while she can hear the scrape of a chair on the floor from the neighbors or someone turning on the water. Her legs begin to go slightly numb and the duvet on her body is sweltering, but she's too lazy to throw it off. Also, she has to pee, but she supposes that can wait. Louis tries to keep Harry off her mind but as the hours pass, something makes it impossible for her to get the curly-haired girl out of her head.

She wants to go to sleep, but it's impossible without Harry's arms around her. Louis can't figure out what that means.

\---

Six days later, Harry and Louis have finally fallen back into the place they were weeks before, and Louis couldn't be happier.

They're drunk, is the thing, blasting Christmas music throughout the flat and putting up decorations because it was officially decided that the party would be held at the Stylinson household. As Louis dances around to old Christmas classics, Harry lounges on the couch, long legs out in front of her and giggling every time her glass of whiskey misses her too-large mouth.

"Lou," Harry says loudly, "Lou, your bum looks great in those... are those my panties?" Louis stops dancing, lifts up her jumper and looks down at the pair of red underwear she has on. Which are too small, and she didn't know how she didn't notice before, but now she does.

"Oops," she giggles, dropping the jumper again, and she wobbles over to Harry. Harry spreads out her arms, tilting her head up and grinning with her eyes shut, and with a gasp Louis falls in her lap. Her hands immediately go around Harry's neck, fingers tangling in her wild dark hair.

"You've got, like," Louis drawls, "the greenest fucking eyes I've ever seen. You know? They're like. A fucking forest."

"Thank you."

"And, fuck," she continues, "your lips. Fuck, Curly. I've never wanted to kiss a girl but like, every time I look at your lips I just wanna... fucking kiss you all night long." Harry's eyes open wide as Louis' drop to Harry's mouth; her lips are swollen from biting them all night, red and wet and plump.

"Then why don't you?" Harry whispers, and her and Louis lock eyes. Louis' mouth parts and she lets out a small breath, eyelashes fluttering as she squirms on Harry's lap.

"I have to take a wiz," Louis suddenly announces, and then she's prancing to the bathroom, heart pounding in her chest.

Maybe she's going crazy.

\---

The drive to Doncaster is faster than it should be, because Louis is going ten units over the speed limit and the roads are empty from it being almost three in the morning. All she can do is drive with the windows down and fight back her tears and curse herself for being so stupid for running. 

It's been ten years since she met Harry and it took an almost-kiss to make Louis run to her mother like a scared child. 

Her phone vibrates in the cup holder and in Louis' peripheral vision, she can see Harry's name, and God does she feel horrible.

The night started out like any other - Harry cooking dinner, Louis choosing the movie for the night, Harry and Louis cuddling on the couch. And like any other night, they went to bed together, Harry opting for Louis' tonight because Louis slept in Harry's last night. But their walk down the hall was forgotten as they both stopped under the arch, looking up at the mistletoe Harry drunkenly taped to the arch just nights before.

Louis doesn't know who leaned in first, but she does know it was her that ran, heart beating wildly in her chest and mind panicking. Because Louis wanted to kiss Harry, Louis wanted to hold Harry, Louis wanted to take Harry to bed and be the girl to bite into her milky skin and make her moan. All of these thoughts had come at once, as if a dam broke in her head, and even now as she drives to her mum's house things still don't make sense.

One thing Louis knows for sure is that she probably isn't as straight as she initially thought. Or that her and Harry weren't as platonic as she initially thought. And the thing is, she doesn't know how to handle that. Because all this time, ever since Louis even figured out what sexuality was, she's always identified as straight.

She guesses she never actually took into account the fact that Harry Styles would move in across the street from her just a year later and change all that. She guesses she never actually cared to make her think, for ten years, that maybe the way she felt about her best friend wasn't just feelings that come with having a best friend.

The calls from Harry stop eventually, and Louis is relieved when she finally reaches Doncaster. She knows it's after three in the morning and her mum won't be too happy about her driving nearly three hours just to crash for the night and maybe get some advice and clear her head. The roads are empty and silent as she drives through them to her childhood home, hands gripping the steering wheel and eyes burning from holding back so many tears. When she finally pulls into the driveway of her childhood home, Louis can hardly breathe, only staring at the clock on her dashboard and trying to keep from shaking.

It's not an exaggeration for Louis to say she's having an existential crisis, or something along the lines of that.

After what feels like forever, Louis finally shuts off the car and gets out, hoping her mum hasn't changed the locks since she last visited. She hasn't, and Louis pushes the front door open, shutting it quietly behind her and locking it again. The house is silent and littered with shoes, toys, magazines. It looks lived in and just the same as when she had moved out, but there are two extra purses hanging on the coat rack with her mum's and she knows they're Fizzy's and Lottie's.  

The thing is, Louis didn't necessarily plan this far ahead, showing up at home in the dark morning hours and then what? She couldn't risk giving her mum a heart attack by just appearing in her bedroom doorway. Sighing, Louis shoves her keys in her pockets and walks to the kitchen, getting a glass out of the cupboard and turning on the tap. She lets it run for a moment, just staring at the stream of water, before filling the glass with it almost all the way and taking large gulps. Feeling dehydrated from holding back tears is an understatement.

"Louis?" The kitchen light flickers on and Louis turns around quickly, water sloshing in the glass. Her mum is standing there, squinting and leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Harry called, and she-"

Louis sets the glass on the counter and suddenly a wave of tears comes flooding through, a shock running through Louis' body as she pulls her mum into a crushing embrace. Her mum only hugs back, running a hand through her daughter's short hair and lets her cry into the crook of her neck.

An hour later they're sitting on the couch, facing each other and drinking from hot mugs of tea. Louis is ready to talk, but she doesn't know what to say. Her mind is full of too many things at the moment, things she hasn't even completely processed.

"Harry and I almost kissed," she finally says, "and I wanted it. I - I don't know which one of us moved first. But we were almost there and - all I could do was think about how I could do that forever. Lean in and kiss Harry."

Louis stares down into her mug, thumb brushing over the rim before she brings it to her mouth. The liquid is scalding hot, but she gulps it down anyway, taking the pain it brings her. She supposes she deserves it.

"It's just," Louis continues, "all this time I thought it was just... the way we were. All domestic and all that, always sleeping in the same bed and all that. But. Fuck, mum. That's not normal, is it? That never was normal."

Her mum shifts on the couch, humming thoughtfully, encouraging her to go on.

"I kind of feel like I've been lying to myself and her all this time. Because, like, I've always thought I was straight. But I keep thinking and remembering and I have no idea how anyone might've believed me when Harry was around. She's all I've ever known, we grew up together. It's crazy, mum, I don't know what to do."

The tears start coming again and the house is silent, save for the sound of Louis' quiet gasps and sobs. Jay doesn't say anything, only watches, eyes sympathetic and waiting.

"I figured this would happen eventually," is all she finally says, and Louis’ crying slows. 

"What?"

"Everyone, Lou, everyone saw it. You were just blind," Jay says softly, and Louis' brows furrow, eyes focusing on a frayed thread on the couch.

"What do you mean?"

"Baby," Jay says, "you and Harry have practically been in a committed relationship ever since she came out to you." To say that Louis' entire world was crashing down around her was an understatement, because now, practically everything she has known for the past ten years has been a lie.

"I think I love her."

"I know you do."

The rest of the night is spent drinking tea and crying, and Louis doesn't head upstairs to go to sleep until almost six in the morning, Jay kissing her on the forehead and assuring her daughter that she loves her. Louis remembers that her phone is still in her cup holder in the car, calls from Harry unanswered, and possibly more from their friends.

She practically drags herself up to her old bedroom, which still has all of her posters and Christmas lights and even the same bedspread and sheets. Louis opens the drawers in her bedside table and finds that her diary is there, locked and untouched, and she's tempted to look through it. Find if she had written anything about Harry in particular. She knows she did; she knows Harry Styles was all she talked about.

Taking off her jeans and changing into a ratty t-shirt still hanging in her closet, Louis falls asleep almost immediately, exhausted and stressed. She probably couldn't be more grateful for her mum being so understanding and accepting, and if everyone saw like her mum claims they did, then Louis supposes the possibility of making things real with Harry wouldn't come as a shock. Louis still can't decide if she's okay with that or not.

_I can't handle seeing you like this anymore._

As Louis falls into a deep sleep, she thinks maybe she understands Elliot's text message now. She feels bad, wondering how long he held on, how much he actually endured seeing his girlfriend have feelings for another woman. She wonders if he ever felt inadequate, or felt guilty for holding back Louis and Harry.

She feels sorry for him.

When Louis wakes up, it's late afternoon and her sisters are already either in school or doing something else. Jay informs her as she eats a late brunch that it's the girls' last day before winter break.

"Can you tell them I said hello? And that I'll Skype sometime this week?" Louis wonders when she stands by the front door, ready to go. She's in desperate need of a shower and an adult conversation with Harry and escaping to her mum's for a while helped clear her head a bit.

"Of course, baby," Jay says, smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners like Louis'. Louis smiles back and they hug tightly, and she never wants to leave the arms of her mother, but she has to get back to London.

As she drives out of Doncaster, windows down again and phone dead in the center console, Louis feels a false sense of peace. She knows as soon as she gets to the flat it'll be gone, so she holds onto it now as tightly as she can.

\---

When Louis gets home, Harry's car is parked in front of the flat, and her throat tightens. She wonders if Harry hates her for running away and tears prick in her eyes but she blinks them away, dragging a hand down her face. Taking a deep breath, Louis gets out of the car, the cold December air swallowing her up and she wishes it could make her disappear. But she can't avoid this. Her and Harry have to talk, and it's better that it's now rather than later.

Louis walks into the dingy lobby of her building and takes the stairs to her floor, hands shoved in the pocket of her jumper, clutching her phone. Her fringe hangs down in front of her eyes but she doesn't bother to fix it, eyelashes catching on the fine strands and tickling at her cheekbone. The steps she takes up the flight of stairs echoes through the open levels, finally reaching the fourth storey where her flat is, and she takes her keys out of her jumper pocket to unlock the door when -

It opens in it's own, and Harry is standing there, staring down at Louis with red-rimmed eyes and a pale face. Louis feels sick again, Harry's eyes holding her in the hall in front of their flat door, and she opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. They stand there, eyes locked, for what feels like an eternity before Harry steps to the side. And Louis gets it. She walks into the flat, kicking off her shoes, and there's no Christmas music playing, nor is the TV on. The flat is silent and still, and Harry shuts the door behind them.

Louis stares down at the floor, body turned away from Harry's, and neither of them can look at each other. She had never actually prepared anything to say to Harry, other than probably an apology and then just take it from there. So Louis lifts her head up, turns to Harry, and opens her mouth again to use her voice when suddenly -

She's being pulled by the collar of her sweater and then finally, finally, her lips crash against Harry's, and she gasps out at the sensation of the warm flesh.

 _"Lou, Lou, Lou,"_ Harry mumbles against Louis' lips, and their hands are everywhere, Harry's tongue running over Louis' bottom lip. She allows her access, their tongues tangling together and Harry tastes like candy canes and something else that's so distinctly her. Louis moans as Harry's hands grip at her arse, long fingers sinking into the flesh, and then Louis is being pushed up against the door. She instinctively hooks a leg around Harry's hip and Harry uses her grip on her arse to lift her up, their bodies pressing together.

Louis' fingers tangle in Harry's hair, dull nails scratching at her scalp, and Harry pulls their lips away for breather. Both moan as Harry grazes her teeth against the sensitive skin of Louis' neck, tongue lapping at the warm golden flesh and mouth sucking gentle love bites as if Louis' skin is the most delicious thing Harry's mouth has come in contact with.

"Lou, love you so much, Lou," Harry pants, peppering kisses all over Louis' face, and both begin to giggle.

"Haz," Louis mumbles, and uses her hand tangled in Harry's hair to push their lips together again, tongues immediately meeting and running over each other's teeth. Louis runs her tongue along the roof of Harry's mouth and Harry whines, fingers digging harder into Louis' arse.

"Take me to bed," Louis gasps against Harry's lips. Harry does so without another word, Louis wrapping her other leg around Harry's other hip and their lips don't disconnect as Harry carries her into her bedroom. She shoulders the door open, Louis nibbling at the pale flesh of Harry's neck, feeling the way it heats up underneath her tongue and lips and the way it feels like satin.

Louis has never wanted anyone so much in her life.

Harry gently lays Louis down on the bed before crawling over her, dipping her head down to connect their lips again, hands running up and down Louis' sides. The touches send shivers and shocks through Louis' body and as Harry rolls her hips down on Louis', she realizes -

"It's you," she breathes when Harry pulls away, and Harry only hums, staring down at Louis.

"Can I..." Harry swallows nervously, tongue darting over her bottom lip. "Can I undress you?" Louis inhales sharply through her nose, exhales out her mouth that tastes like Harry, before she nods.

"Please," she says softly, gritting her teeth together when Harry's hands are on her again. Louis stares down her body at the way Harry gently hooks her fingers into Louis' joggers, pulling them down and kissing her hips and the tops of her thighs. Harry discards the joggers and her hands travel up Louis' body, one hand snaking underneath Louis' back to lift her as the other pulls up Louis' jumper.

Soon, Louis is laying underneath Harry in only her underwear, breathless as Harry begins to undress herself. Louis watches with intense concentration on the way Harry's arms flex and her torso stretches when she pulls her t-shirt over her head, shaking out her mane of curls. She's not wearing a bra, like usual, nipples hardening when they come in contact with the cold air. And Louis has seen Harry shirtless more times than she's seen her with a shirt on, but now it's different. Now it's different, because Harry is straddling Louis' thighs and she's staring down at Louis with swollen lips and darkened eyes as if she has found heaven in her bed.

"Fuck, Lou," Harry breathes, "your body..." A jolt runs down Louis' spine and butterflies erupt in her stomach as Harry kisses from between Louis' breasts down to above her navel before pulling off her tight jeans.

"Now we're even," Louis says, and both grin at each other.

"I don't know how far you want to go," Harry suddenly says, cautious and concerned, still hovering over Louis' body.

"Show what I've been missing out on," Louis murmurs, biting her bottom lip, lowering her lids and Harry draws in a quick breath.

"Fuck," she breathes, "fuck, okay." Her fingertips ghost over the the top of Louis' underwear, touch barely there, careful and calculating and brushing along the tan skin. Harry touches Louis like she's something priceless, precious, irreplaceable. _Holy._ Louis' heart bursts with warmth.

"Been wanting to touch you for years," Harry says, mouthing at Louis' hips, pressing kisses to the bones that are hardly prominent but still there. "Had all those girls in this bed... but they were never you." Louis lets out a whine, throwing her head back against the pillows as Harry's mouth travels further down Louis, hands grabbing at the back of Louis' knees and parting them. Not knowing what to do with her hands, Louis settles for running one through her hair and unashamedly uses the fingers on the other to brush over her nipples. She moans at the sensation of rolling the bud between her fingers and Harry's tongue running along the inside of her thighs, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

"'Arry, stop teasing," Louis whines, rolling her hips upward, and Harry chuckles.

"Eager," she says cheekily, and Louis looks down to find Harry staring up at her underneath her long lashes, eyes like emeralds in the dark room only lit by moonlight. They hold Louis captive, hold her breath in her throat, hold her heart on it's beat. Harry's tongue runs over her bottom lip slowly and Louis' eyes flutter shut before they open again, hips wiggling with want.

Finally, with a final kiss pressed into Louis' inner left thigh, Harry hooks her fingers into the top of Louis' underwear and pulls them off. Louis lifts her hips to help, and then she's completely naked, legs open around Harry's head. As she stares down at Harry with heavy eyelids and swollen lips, she finds a new religion between her thighs, held in the milky skin and red lips of her unknown long-time lover.

Louis is unbelievably turned on, more than she has been in a long time, and the anticipation of what Harry will do makes her want to squeeze her thighs shut but she doesn't. Harry's breath is hot over her center, sending chills and shudders through Louis' body.

"You sure about this?" Harry wonders, voice soft. Louis' stomach dips with the deep breath she takes as she nods incessantly, mumbling incoherent words that sound like _Please please do it_ because she can't hold off any longer.

So Harry listens, and Louis immediately cries out, hips jumping and toes curling as Harry's tongue flicks over Louis' clit.

"'Arry - ah," Louis moans, throwing her head back as Harry's tongue becomes relentless, a hand reaching up and rolling one of Louis' nipples between her fingertips. The sensations sent through Louis' body has her shaking and gasping, letting out high-pitched whines and moaning Harry's name.

Suddenly, Harry's free hand that was propped on Louis' knee meets with her mouth.

 _"Mmh, oh my god,"_ Louis gasps, eyes opening wide as Harry's middle finger pokes into her center, and almost immediately she finds Louis' sweet spot that has the girl practically speaking in tongues. With Harry's warm tongue on her clit and then two fingers pressing into Louis, wrist working skillfully, Louis is a gasping and borderline sobbing mess. Her hands fist at the soft white sheets of the bed that remind her of Harry's skin and with that, she takes one hand and reaches down, tangling her fingers in Harry's messy hair.

"Harry, Harry, Haz," Louis cries out, and she can feel her orgasm coming, a pool of warmth spreading through her body as her thighs shake. She rocks down on Harry's fingers, creating a rhythm as they meet, Harry down to the third knuckle as her tongue and thumb work at Louis' clit.

And then Louis comes unraveled completely, crying out Harry's name and back arching obscenely as she comes, toes curling and chest heaving. Her eyes squeeze shut tightly, words falling out of her mouth that she can't hear with the rush of blood running through her ears, and then it's over. Louis lays limp on Harry's bed, knees coming together and fingers brushing at her own thighs and she turns her head and breathes heavily, whining.

"Holy shit," she hears Harry whisper, and then she's hovering over Louis again, pressing her lips to Louis' exposed neck. "Louis."

"Mmm."

"Louis, you were amazing." Louis sniffles and opens her eyes, looking up at Harry, her hair creating a curtain around their faces. Moonlight from the bedroom window leaks through the locks, casting shadows over Harry's pale face. Louis feels warm all over, chest rising and falling, and she smiles, the crinkles by her eyes more prominent than ever. Harry smiles back, dimple intending her cheek, and she presses their lips together. Louis can taste herself on Harry's tongue but she doesn't mind, licking into Harry's mouth.

 _"I_ was amazing?" Louis giggles when they pull away. "That was the best orgasm I've had in my life." Harry's smile stretches into a grin and she buries her face into the crook of Louis' neck, nuzzling her nose against her jawline, pulling Louis to her bare chest. Louis clings back, fingers digging into Harry's shoulders.

"I didn't ever think this would happen," Harry says softly after a while, lifting her head. Louis and Harry lock eyes, Harry's attentive and gentle.

"Neither did I," Louis admits, "not for the same reason but... you know..." Harry nods.

"Are you still... do you want me to do anything?" Louis asks, sliding her hands down to the small of Harry's back, pushing their bodies together again. "I've never done anything with a girl before so I... I don't know how good I'd be."

And then Harry kisses her hard again, biting down on Louis' bottom lip, and Louis hisses but she likes the pain.

"Nah. I wanna give you another run," Harry says, voice low and rough, and a shiver runs down Louis' spine as Harry kisses from Louis' lips to between her legs again.

Harry repeats what she did last time, only more aggressive, Louis' legs thrown over Harry's shoulders and leaving love bites on the insides of Louis' tan thighs, humming against her center and sending vibrations through Louis' body. When Louis comes again, it's harder than last time, ankles crossing tightly between Harry's shoulder blades and holding her in between her legs for an extra moment. As Harry pulls away, she stretches herself out over Louis, green eyes holding her captive as Louis watches Harry lick Louis off her fingers. A breath shudders out of Louis' mouth and she grabs Harry by the back of their neck, forcing their mouths together.

They fall asleep like that, Harry's lips against Louis' neck and their naked bodies slick with sweat and filled with love.

\---

Louis wakes up to the scent of pancakes and bacon and blueberry muffins. Eyes fluttering open, Louis looks down the bed to find Harry perched at the end with a tray of food.

"Happy birthday," Harry grins, cheeks flushed, a bit of flour on the bridge of her nose. Sunlight filters in through the slats of the blinds on the window, the room a bright white and gold, Harry's porcelain skin practically glowing. Louis swears that there's an angel at the end of the bed, with chocolate curls flowing over her breasts and presenting her with the best breakfast in the universe.

"I love you," Louis blurts out, sitting up. She's still completely naked and Harry isn't looking much more modest, a pair of loose lacy underwear hanging from her narrow hips. Harry grins wider and it meets her eyes, dimples on full display.

"I love you, too," she says, and Louis blushes, nervously fixing her fringe. Then she picks up the tray and carefully scoots across the bed to Louis, setting it between them.

"So today, you and I are going to eat this glorious breakfast I prepared for you. Then, I'm gonna go down on you again, and shower, and we'll go shopping for tonight's party," Harry says, waving her fork around. Louis smiles around a mouthful of syrupy pancakes. "And then, in honor of your birthday, I'm taking you out on a late lunch, AKA our first official date at your favorite restaurant."

Giggling, Louis pushes away the tray of food and pulls Harry down, hugging her to her chest.

"You're unbelievable," she breathes, threading her fingers through Harry's hair. “Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

"Absolutely not, I didn't finish," Harry giggles, "we'll come home and get everything ready for the party. Maybe if we have time I'll eat you out on the kitchen counter. Everyone will come over and we'll all get tipsy and I'll kiss you in front of everyone because _now I can."_

By the time Harry is done talking, Louis' body fills with warmth and she whines, pulling at Harry's hair so that she'll lift her head. Their lips attach and Harry's mouth tastes like syrup and blueberries.

\---

Nobody is surprised when they walk into Harry and Louis' flat, only to find them cuddled up in front of the small fireplace and kissing each other's cheeks. Louis regrets giving Zayn a key to their flat.

"I'm gonna take it away from you. Revoke your privileges for free stays at the Stylinson Inn," she mumbles as Zayn pulls her into a hug, and he doesn't reply, only gives her a huge smile that makes his eyes squint when he steps away.

"How'd it happen?" he wonders softly. Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, who is checking the pies in the oven, and she smiles because it's so endearing.

"She moved in across the street," Louis says sincerely, and Zayn nods in understanding. Because it didn't just happen the night before - it happened a decade ago, that's when it all began. It just took all those years for them both to realize that being together was actually something obtainable, not just imagination.

Niall, Liam, Ed, and Perrie eventually all show up and everything feels different from a year ago. This time Louis is in the arms of Harry rather than Elliot, this time they're kissing openly rather than looking too long at each other's lips, this time they can dance around the living room to Christmas classics without having to worry about where their hands are placed.

Louis feels incredibly free, and when four in the morning rolls around, Louis and Harry chase everyone out of their flat. In the hours stuck inside, it had begun to snow, and Ed promises to to be careful driving everyone home. As their friends all leave together, piling into Ed's car, Harry takes Louis' hands and pulls her in close. Their nose brush as Harry tilts Louis' face upward by her chin and their warm breath ghosts against each other's mouths, eyes falling shut, before they press them together.

It's tender and Louis is on fire. She swears she could melt the snow underneath her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EPILOGUE IN NEXT CHAPTER >>>


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